Odd Melting Pot
by WinterSky101
Summary: In which the others in Kattegat find out about Athelstan's crucifixion, and he finds out that his fears that they won't accept him because of it are completely unfounded.


**Okay, so the show never really addressed Ragnar and the others finding out about Athelstan's crucifixion. And I really _really_ wanted to see what their reaction would be, and how Athelstan would react to their reaction. Which led to me talking to a friend (who doesn't even watch Vikings but still listened to my rant; bless her soul) until she told me that I should stop talking to her and write something. So I did.**

**Although it's obviously not said in as many words, Athelstan has what's basically playing out as PTSD in this fic, which leads to a slight breakdown on his part. Consider yourself warned, if that's going to bother you.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Vikings.**

* * *

"_Some families are an odd melting pot of strangers with the occasional offering of obligation."_

_Donna Lynn Hope_

The first time Ragnar saw the scars on Athelstan's hands wasn't in Wessex. It wasn't on the ship either. No, Ragnar didn't seen the scars until after they returned to Kattegat. And even then, it was only by chance that he happened to notice them.

They were in the hall, drinking together on a rainy night. Athelstan clearly hadn't drank much while in Wessex, which had diminished his already low alcohol tolerance. After one cup, his cheeks were a pleasant, rosy pink and his words were slurring just the tiniest bit. Ragnar thought it was slightly endearing. He had missed his priest.

"I'll go get us some more ale," Athelstan offered, standing and taking Ragnar's cup.

"You are no longer my slave, Athelstan," Ragnar reminded him, savoring the name in his mouth, with all its strange syllables and sounds. Athelstan shrugged.

"I know. But I'm just getting you more ale, as a favor from a friend to a friend. We are friends, are we not?"

"Of course we are," Ragnar replied, smiling. Athelstan smiled back, but there was a shadow in his eyes that Ragnar didn't like. Not for the first time, he wondered what had happened in Wessex that Athelstan wouldn't talk about. There had to be something, for Athelstan to be acting the way he was. Ragnar just wasn't sure what.

Athelstan was crossing the room when suddenly, abruptly, he dropped his cup with a hiss of pain. Ragnar stood immediately, worried. Athelstan's face twisted in pain. The other cup slipped from his grasp as he cradled his hand to his chest. "Athelstan?" Ragnar called tentatively. Athelstan looked up, giving him the same look a cornered deer would.

"Athelstan, come over here," Ragnar commanded softly. Athelstan was slow to obey, but obey he did. He walked gingerly, as if stepping too hard would hurt his feet. Ragnar had no idea whether or not it would.

"What is wrong with your hands?" Ragnar asked quietly. Athelstan refused to meet his eyes.

"Nothing," he replied. Ragnar arched an eyebrow. "It's not a problem," Athelstan added. He was never very good at lying. In a quick movement, Ragnar grabbed Athelstan's hand, pulling it away from his chest. Athelstan let out a noise of protest and yanked it back, but not before Ragnar saw an angry red scar in the center of his palm. Now that Ragnar thought about it, he had noticed strange marks on Athelstan's hands, medium-sized red circles. A horrible feeling settled in Ragnar's gut.

"Athelstan, what happened to you in Wessex?" he asked quietly. Athelstan's face turned terrified, then he turned and limped out of the hall as quickly as he could. Ragnar almost made as if to follow, but in the end, he sat down instead, looking down at his hands and tried to imagine the pain of nails being stabbed through them.

* * *

Lagertha was returning to her temporary lodgings in Kattegat when she passed a shivering figure in the rain. "Athelstan?" she asked curiously, stepping closer. It was the priest, his curly hair dripping wet and plastered to his neck. He didn't respond to her as she approached him. "Athelstan?" she asked again. Still nothing. Cautiously, Lagertha put a gentle hand on Athelstan's shoulder. He flinched, drawing his shoulders in tighter. Lagertha noticed that he was cradling his hands to his chest.

"Priest, what's wrong?" Lagertha asked, turning Athelstan around to look at her. He refused to meet her eyes.

"Nothing," he mumbled. But his hands were still at his chest, and his expression was pained, so Lagertha didn't believe him very much.

"Come with me," she told Athelstan, walking to where she was staying. After a few moments, he began to follow her. He walked strangely, taking each step with more care than Lagertha would have thought necessary. She worried that it was.

"Enter," Lagertha told Athelstan, holding her door open for him. Athelstan stepped through slowly. He was trembling, Lagertha noticed. She shuddered to think what must have happened to him to cause such suffering.

"Athelstan, will you tell me what happened?" Lagertha asked, gently setting Athelstan down on her bed. He avoided her eyes. "Did Ragnar do something?"

"It's not his fault," Athelstan mumbled. "It wasn't him, he didn't do it."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Lagertha asked quietly. Athelstan shook his head minutely. "Alright. Lie down. You need to sleep."

"Thank you," Athelstan whispered as he curled up on Lagertha's bed. He must have been even more exhausted than Lagertha had first assumed; he was asleep in a matter of minutes. His hands relaxed in his sleep, showing the scars that Lagertha had noticed before. She didn't know from where they came and she hadn't asked; if Athelstan had wanted them to know, he would have told them.

But clearly, whatever had happened in Wessex had been terrible. Lagertha wanted to find Ragnar and talk to him about it, but she didn't want to leave Athelstan alone, in case he woke up. Fortune smiled on her, however, as her answer arrived a minute later with a knock on the door.

"Princess Aslaug," Lagertha stated as she opened the door to find Ragnar's new wife on the other side. "What is it?"

"You need not use my titles," Aslaug replied mildly. "You are an earl, and I am an earl's wife. We are equals now." Aslaug gestured at the interior of Lagertha's temporary home. "May I enter?"

"Of course," Lagertha replied, moving aside. Aslaug stepped in, looking around. Her eyes caught on Athelstan's sleeping form. "It's the priest," Lagertha answered before Aslaug could ask. "I believe he and Ragnar argued, and he seemed distressed. I offered him my bed."

"To share?" Aslaug asked innocently. Lagertha scoffed.

"Have you ever asked him to share your bed? He still thinks that it is a sin to lie with a woman or man. I do not believe he has yet relinquished his virginity."

"Truly?" Aslaug asked, her expression changing to pure curiosity as she looked over at Athelstan. "I thought that perhaps he and my husband…"

"I do not believe so," Lagertha replied, answering the unspoken question. "Ragnar and I offered, but he always refused. Why does it matter? Did you feel threatened?"

"If I were to feel threatened by anyone, it would be you," Aslaug replied honestly. "You were Ragnar's first wife. He still loves you, anyone can see it. I have my place only because I have borne him sons."

"He cares for you as well," Lagertha replied, unsure of why exactly she was comforting her husband's new wife.

"Perhaps," Aslaug replied noncommittally. "I have the feeling that you wish to speak with him about what happened with Athelstan."

"I do not wish to leave Athelstan alone," Lagertha replied, shooting a quick look at the priest curled up on her bed. Aslaug put a hand on Lagertha's arm.

"Go to Ragnar. I will wait here until you return." Lagertha studied Aslaug for a moment, trying to figure out if the offer was genuine, and if so, where it had come from. She saw now hint of a lie in Aslaug's eyes.

"Thank you," Lagertha said quietly, standing. Aslaug offered her a slight smile as she stepped out of the small house.

Lagertha and Ragnar had to talk about their priest.

* * *

Aslaug was beginning to feel that perhaps she had made a mistake in choosing to stay with Athelstan. She and the priest weren't good friends; in fact, they barely spoke to each other, especially since he had returned from Wessex. If he woke in a panic, as Lagertha seemed worried that he might, Aslaug wasn't sure what she could do to help. Aslaug just hoped that Lagertha returned before Athelstan awoke.

Of course, that was not to be. Fortune was not on Aslaug's side. Not even ten minutes after Lagertha left, Athelstan let out a hoarse cry. He was still asleep, but Aslaug sensed he would not remain that way for long. It was the same sensation she had with her children, when she knew they were going to wake up soon. Cautiously, Aslaug sat down on the edge of the bed, putting a cautious hand on Athelstan's forehead, running her fingers through his hair. It comforted her children; she hoped it would comfort Athelstan as well.

Athelstan curled into Aslaug, his whole body shaking. "Athelstan, it's alright," Aslaug whispered, wishing there was something more she could do to help. "You're in Kattegat. You're alright. You're safe."

"No, please don't," Athelstan begged in a murmur, curling in closer to Aslaug. "No, please, no, _no!_" With a strangled scream, Athelstan jerked awake. Aslaug quickly grabbed him, holding him against her chest as he trembled.

"You're alright," Aslaug whispered, running her fingers through Aslaug's curls as she would do with one of her sons. "It was just a dream. You're alright."

"Aslaug?" Athelstan choked out, pulling away to look at her. "Why are you here?"

"Lagertha had to go speak to Ragnar," Aslaug replied in a quiet, calming voice. "She asked me to stay here with you." Athelstan's face went white.

"She's with Ragnar?" he whispered. "No, no, they'll figure it out. They can't figure it out."

"Figure what out?" Aslaug asked. Athelstan ignored her, jerking to his feet. A few steps away from the bed, he cried out in pain, falling to his knees. Aslaug quickly knelt next to him.

"Athelstan, what's wrong?"

"He has abandoned me," Athelstan whispered. Aslaug frowned.

"He? Do you mean Ragnar?"

"He has abandoned me," Athelstan repeated, as if Aslaug hadn't spoken. "Or have I abandoned Him? I didn't want to, but why else would He let them do that, why would He let them do that to me…"

Athelstan's entire body was shaking. Aslaug was unsure of whether he would cry or not, but it wouldn't surprise her. She put a gentle hand on his shoulder, maneuvering him to lean against her. Athelstan continued trembling as Aslaug rubbed his back slowly, comforting him as she comforted her sons. He didn't cry; his sorrow seemed deeper than that. Aslaug stayed with him, whispering calming platitudes in his ear and comforting him the best he could, but she was not sure how much her comfort helped.

She feared his sorrow was taking him to a place they could not reach.

* * *

A little past dawn, Bjorn went to find Lagertha after spending a night with Þorunn, hoping that his mother could help him figure out what exactly was happening between him and the newly-freed former slave. He knocked on the door of Lagertha's temporary house, opening it slowly when no one answered. Inside, he found Lagertha curled up at the end of her bed, asleep. At the front of the bed was, to Bjorn's surprise, Athelstan.

"Bjorn?" Lagertha was awake immediately, sitting up and looking over at her son. "Don't wake Athelstan."

"Why is he here?" Bjorn asked curiously. Lagertha sighed.

"Something happened to him in Wessex. Ragnar tried to confront him on it last night, and he did more harm than good. Aslaug said he was talking about his god last night, babbling something about being abandoned. I believe he was drunk, which didn't help matters."

"Princess Aslaug was here?" Bjorn asked, surprised. Lagertha nodded.

"Athelstan refuses to say what happened, but he clearly needs to."

"I could talk to him, if you wish," Bjorn offered. "I do not know what good it can do, but I may as well try."

"Would you?" Lagertha asked, looking relieved. "He's been waking up throughout the night, and he refuses to talk to me. He has been getting more and more coherent, however. I think he's working his way through this on his own, but you know how Athelstan can be. He cannot internalize everything, no matter how much he thinks he can."

"I will speak with him," Bjorn promised. "I think he may be waking now." Athelstan was beginning to stir, curling up in the same way he had done years ago, when Ragnar had first brought him over as a slave. Bjorn was pleased to see that some things stayed the same, at least.

"Be gentle with him," Lagertha urged as she went over to the door. Bjorn frowned.

"Where are you going?" he asked. Lagertha smiled slightly.

"To get some breakfast. I will be back in a few minutes." With that, Lagertha left. Bjorn looked at Athelstan uncertainly. He was waking up, clearly. The sound of the door closing jerked him entirely into awareness.

"Bjorn?" Athelstan asked in a sleep-slurred voice, sitting upright. "Why are you here?"

"I wished to talk to you," Bjorn replied, wondering what exactly he was going to say. He really hadn't thought it through when he told Lagertha he would talk to Athelstan. "About King Ecbert."

"Oh." Immediately, Athelstan's face became closed off. "What do you wish to talk about?"

"Do we have anything to fear from him?" Bjorn asked, blabbing the first thing that came to mind. Athelstan frowned.

"I don't think so. I believe him to be an honorable man. If you do not attack, I do not believe he will either."

"Do you know him well?" Bjorn asked. Athelstan shrugged minutely.

"I spent most of my time in Wessex with him," he replied in a guarded tone. Bjorn noticed that he began twisting his hands around in his lap as he spoke. "He helped me when I needed it, and in return, I stayed with him."

"Did you tell him about us?" Bjorn asked. Athelstan shook his head.

"Not much," he replied. "Nothing that matters, anyway. I would not betray your secrets."

"Are they not your secrets as well?" Bjorn asked before he could stop himself. "As you are one of us?"

"O-of course," Athelstan stuttered, twisting his hands around even more. He hissed in pain suddenly, looking down at his hands as if they had betrayed him. Bjorn noticed the scars when Athelstan stretched his hands out. He didn't say anything.

"If you want to talk about anything that happened in Wessex…" Bjorn began, trailing off awkwardly. Athelstan's lips twitched up in one of the worst fake smiles Bjorn had ever seen.

"I'm fine," he replied. It wasn't convincing, but Bjorn didn't push him.

"Athelstan, do you want breakfast?" Lagertha asked, reentering at the perfect time. Athelstan looked at her with a slightly more real smile.

"That would be lovely, my lady. Thank you." Bjorn watched for a moment as Lagertha and Athelstan interacted.

Athelstan wasn't half as good an actor as he thought he was.

* * *

Athelstan slipped into Ragnar's hall as quietly as he could. He had seen Ragnar leaving, and he was fairly certain that Aslaug had gone with him. Lagertha and Bjorn were talking about something in Lagertha's temporary house. Athelstan didn't think anyone would see him.

The gospels that Athelstan had brought from Lindisfarne had long since rotted away, but Athelstan still had his cross. The cross from Wessex he had dropped in the ocean on the way back to Kattegat. Other than his cross, Athelstan's only possessions were the clothes he was wearing, an ax, and a small bag of coins. That was what Athelstan was going to collect.

He was leaving Kattegat. He didn't want to, he didn't want to leave Ragnar and Aslaug and Lagertha and Bjorn, but they were coming too close to finding out what had happened in Wessex. He knew they would hate him if they knew. He had given himself up to the Englishmen, which was bad enough. And then to be tied down and treated the way he was, like he was weak? It was against all of the Northmen's ideals. They would hate him for it. Athelstan would leave before they could.

His money was in the same place he had left it before going to Wessex. In fact, his room looked to be mostly untouched. Athelstan wondered at that. Jarl Borg had taken Kattegat while Athelstan was off in Wessex, and he didn't seem the type to leave any of the rooms alone. Someone must have gone in and fixed Athelstan's room after.

Athelstan took his little bag of money and slipped out of the room. He didn't want anyone to find him. Cautiously, he slipped into the main hall…

…Only to stop short upon finding Ragnar, Aslaug, Lagertha, and Bjorn all in it.

"Ah, Athelstan!" Ragnar called, smiling widely. "We were wondering where you had run off to."

"I…" Athelstan's eyes darted to the door. "I have to go," he stammered, hunching his shoulders to make himself a smaller target as he made his way over to the door.

"Athelstan," Ragnar stated in a serious voice. Athelstan stopped, but didn't turn around. "We know."

"How?" Athelstan whispered, turning. Everyone behind him seemed fairly casual, and there was no one blocking his way to the door, if he had to escape quickly.

"We were worried about you," Aslaug replied in a calming tone. "We wanted to know who had hurt you."

"We wanted to tear them limb from limb," Lagertha added savagely. Bjorn nodded. "And you did not do a very good job of hiding it."

"I didn't think you'd notice," Athelstan admitted, slightly stunned by the fact that they had. Ragnar stepped forward, stopping as Athelstan stepped away.

"Of course we would," Ragnar replied, slowly moving forward with his hands out in a gesture of surrender. "How could we not? You are part of our family, Athelstan."

"Why did you hide it?" Bjorn asked quietly. "Had we known while still in Wessex, we would have avenged you."

"I thought you would be angry with me," Athelstan replied, still not quite sure he could believe that they weren't. "I thought you would think I was weak."

"You were overpowered by many men," Ragnar replied. "There is no dishonor in that. And you still managed to survive. We do not think any less of you."

"The others would," Athelstan replied desperately. "Floki already hates me-"

"No, he doesn't," Ragnar replied automatically. Athelstan scoffed, knowing he sounded mildly hysterical.

"He doesn't? He's done a good job of pretending, then. And you cannot deny that the others would think of me differently. They already think me weak. This would prove they are right."

"You are not weak," Aslaug contradicted, stepping forward and gently taking Athelstan's hands in her own. "None of us finds you weak. We care for you all the same. We think of you in the same way."

"We are your family, Athelstan," Lagertha stated for the second time. "You can tell us anything. We will not share it with anyone else, if you do not wish it, but it will make no difference."

"It would not have happened unless I deserved it," Athelstan whispered. Bjorn scoffed at that.

"Things only happen to those who deserve them? Then Gyda deserved to die from the fever, and King Horik deserves the power that he has? You know as well as I that terrible things can happen to good people, and good things can happen to terrible people. You did not deserve what they did to you."

Aslaug carefully pulled Athelstan into an embrace. "We love you anyway," she whispered. That was all it took for Athelstan to start crying, his chest heaving as tears streamed down his face. Lagertha joined in the hug, then Bjorn, then Ragnar. Athelstan found himself surrounded by all of them, but he didn't feel worried.

He felt loved.


End file.
